


Vengeance

by amaranthe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9865085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranthe/pseuds/amaranthe
Summary: A retelling of the events of Inquisition with Anders as Corypheus' right hand. Herald Lavellan teams up with his former lover, Mara Hawke, to bring him back to the light, or to destroy him





	

Anders awoke suddenly, sucking in a gasp of air that burned down his raw throat. His head pounded painfully, and he felt like throwing up. Had he been drinking the night before?

He lifted a trembling hand to his face.

No. He remembered the knife in his back. The sharp blade would have slid into his body as if he were made of the finest silk, but there was such rage and pain behind the blow. It felt like she had punched him in the lung. There was pain at first, and then hot blood running down his back, soaking through his clothing, sticking the garments to his skin. He remembered the world turning on its side and the rough grit of dirt and sand against his face as he tumbled forward to the cobblestone ground.

Did she mourn him, he wondered? Or was there too much anger for that? He supposed he rightly deserved it, knew Hawke could never forgive him, never understand why he'd done it. Even though her sister was a mage, Mara Hawke never knew what it was like to grow up in the circle, to be bound, never able to breathe in fresh air, to see the sun, and to have break out, to run, to never stop running. She couldn't understand what it was like. Even so, he had loved her. He loved her fire, her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her voice, the way she said his name. Soft and warm, honey flowing into his ears, dripping into his brain, making it difficult to form a coherent thought.

But she had killed him, that much he was sure about. So what was he doing alive now?

He was lying on the ground where his body had bled out. He turned his head, afraid to move too quickly. His eyesight was bleary, and he could barely make out torches lighting the streets. Night blanketed Kirkwall, and the smell of fire and decay were in the air. There were shouts and the faint ring of steel on steel in the distance, but no sound or movement near him save for the whisper of burning debris and pitch of the torchlight.

He tried to push himself off the ground and succeeded only in rolling over, the movement alone sending blood rushing to his head. His stomach gave way and bile mixed with blood dribbled onto the street.

 _Justice?_ he reached feebly.

_I am here. Bringing you back has left me weak._

_You should have let me die._

_There is still more work to do. You must move. We must leave this place._

_I can't. I have no strength left._

_Then use mine, but I can only help you_ _for a short time_.

He felt a surge of energy race down his limbs, restoring muscle and joints, abating stiffness and pain. He made a small sound of pleasure at the feeling of strength returning to his body. He lifted himself from the stone ground and felt about absently for his staff. His fingers found the smooth wood and he grasped it, using it as leverage to pull himself upright. He leaned heavily against a stone wall before attempting to walk.

With a lurch, Anders set off and swung face first into a makeshift fortification of debris and shields, with pointy bits dispersed all around it to discourage simply pushing it over. Thankfully, most of the pointy bits avoided filling him full of holes and he dragged himself upright again but not without some new scrapes and scratches.

He might have some strength, but not as much as he'd have when healthy and alive. And clearly his coordination needed some work. His limbs felt numb and rubbery as they would when sleeping on an arm or leg curled under his sitting bones, but his muscles obeyed him for the most part. That was all he could ask.

Justice had shown him what he needed to do. The first course of action would be to get out of Kirkwall alive and unseen. The docks would either be shut down to keep anyone from leaving or swarmed with people trying to escape the city.

He thought of the caves where the mage fugitives had hidden, at least before they teamed up with ex-templars, became blood mages, and Hawke killed them all for kidnapping her sister. They would be long gone by now. No help from corpses.

He considered the cove nearby, favored by smugglers. He dared to hope that another group of pirates moved in there, willing to help a helpless mage. Or at least left a boat for him to commandeer.

With a destination in mind, he moved his body in a lurching, jerking cadence, holding carefully to walls and keeping to the shadows.

 

_\--_

 

He found the cove unoccupied. The smugglers' boat was indeed there, but it was moored against the rocks and even if he could cast off on his own in his condition, it would be at the sea floor in minutes.

Anders' weary body collapsed aboard the ship, hidden from view, but exposed to the night sky. He hadn't strength enough to find more of a shelter than that or to light a fire. He succumbed to a deep sleep.

_I know you._

A voice invaded his dreamless sleep, a deep rumbling timbre that shook him to his core. He drew in a breath and held it. It wasn't Justice. Was this another spirit? A demon?

 _Who are you?_   he reached tentatively. _Justice?_ He reached for Justice, but there was no response. The spirit was small and weak, having put so much of its energy into reviving him.

 _You were there when I was freed,_ the voice mused.

Anders drew back as if burned, jarred from his sleep. He woke, feeling around the rotted deck for his staff. He looked around wildly, eyes searching for the source of the voice.

It was familiar, etched into his memory. He hadn't heard it since he had been down, down, deep under the catacombs, buried below the city of Kirkwall.

He hadn't wanted to be there. That place felt wrong. But Hawk had asked him to go. "They are threatening me, my family, my friends. I have to go. I need you." Her voice hadn't wavered. "I need what only you can do, and people I trust." He tried to convince her to stay, that she was walking into a trap, but she was stubborn. She thought she could take on the world. And he knew that she could. So he went with her.

The pressure of that place was immense, and only got stronger the deeper they went, the closer they came to that creature. The voice was there, reverberating in his mind, reaching into his chest, boiling the Darkspawn blood in his body. His body still held the scars caused by shockwaves of lightning coursing through his limbs, of flames licking his skin, burning his hair. All the while, hearing the voice of his love as if from a great distance, calling, calling his name.

_You killed me._

Laughter echoed in the night, and Anders was surprised to hear it bubbling from his own mouth. It wasn't a fearful burst of hysteria he realized, but the creature's own amusement.

_But you saved me, brought a piece of me with you._

A pressure built in his head, and nausea swept over him. He doubled over in pain, sweat beading on his forehead, knuckles white around his staff.

_What are you?_

The pain intensified, as if claws reached into his head, plucking at his thoughts. He let out a breath, which sputtered against his gritted teeth. His fingers surrendered his staff and it clattered to the deck, rolling out of his reach. His shaky arms too weak to support his weight, he too fell, vision clouding and darkening around the edges.

_You are interesting._

He was left gasping as the claws retreated.

_So you are Vengeance._

Anders heard someone sobbing, and it wasn't until he brushed his face with a hand, fingers coming away wet, that he realized it was he who wept. He curled up, making himself small as he felt the presence drape over him like a cloak.

 _I could use you. To rise again. But I think you will be more useful alive. You must find me more with the blood. And then we can begin._ You will be my Vengeance.


End file.
